


the privilege of being yours

by toboldlyfly



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Any bit of 'angst' is made up for lots of kisses, Bipolar Disorder, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, IT'S JUST FLUFF AND NOTHING ELSE TBH, It's just really fluffy guys idk what else to say, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-11 20:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toboldlyfly/pseuds/toboldlyfly
Summary: “You said my nose was cute and squishy!” Isak replies, pouting.“You’re right, I lied. Your nose is the squishiest, and it’s gorgeous. It’s my most favourite thing about you.”Even touches the tip of Isak’s nose, pushing it left and right. He laughs at the face of annoyance Isak is probably making. He always did say that grumpy and pouty Isak was the one he enjoyed the most.*Or, Isak and Even spend a morning in bed together laughing, kissing and falling in love all over again (but what's new about that).





	the privilege of being yours

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this is my first ever fic in the Skam fandom! Actually, in any fandom. I was listening to Turning Pages by Sleeping At Last and I realized that every gross romantic song will remind me of Isak & Even. Therefore, I doomed myself into writing the most fluffy and cute fic I could possibly do considering I have a black hole where my heart should be.
> 
> Special thanks to the loves of my life who encouraged me to keep going when I didn't really believe I could write anything at all and edited the hell out of this small piece:
> 
> Daria, who kept me motivated in the rough times and has the best grammar I've ever seen, damn girl. Zaa, [LillithBlack](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lillithBlack), who always has the nicest things to say and gave me all the drive I needed to finish this. Zarin, [Behindthecities](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Behindthecities), my bro who inspires me and reminds me that there's skill behind all effort.
> 
> I sincerely hope I did our favourite boys justice and that you enjoy reading this fic as much as I did writing it!  
> (Title from Turning Pages by Sleeping At Last)

Isak always hated mornings.

He remembers waking up to the sounds of his mother’s frantic footsteps cluttering up his ears. His father calling after her, pleading for her to slow down. He doesn’t recall the sounds ever stopping even after smothering his face and ears into the pillow.

Everything was always just going so _fast, fast, fast._

Things slowed down when he moved into the collective apartment. He would still wake up to the sounds of Noora’s tea kettle whistling and her light footsteps across the kitchen floor while making breakfast. Sometimes he could hear Eskild humming along to a slow romantic song, so softly and so unlike how he was when the sun fully rose. In those moments just after dawn, he felt the loneliest, there was no sound at all, and every breath he released was a crushing vice on his ribcage. The low voices in his head were an ever growing bubble, expanding until he couldn’t hear the chirping birds and the farewells of families outside his window.

His mind was a deep well of propofol in an IV drip, _slow, slow, slow._

Until the day it wasn’t.

There’s a boy in his bed. A boy who has his favourite blue pillow. A boy who is his favourite of all things in this world. Isak knows the stars hold centuries upon centuries of truths, that the skies and his life are determined, that choices are limited. But he also knows, down to the nuclei of every cell in his body that with his free will, he would choose this boy, Even, to be in his bed with him for all time. He would re-write every theory and re-direct the pathway of every star if it meant that he could keep Even with him.

No cause and no effect. Just him, a boy, in love with another, whole and pure, boy.

Every morning he opens his eyes to see Even feels like the crash of a small wave under his feet. The way he can dig his toes into the sand and feels the coolness of the water wash over his skin. And if Even is awake, his eyes so blue, like the ocean, like the pillow, he can almost feel the warmth of the sun on his body and the water at his feet. He’ll never get used to how it feels to have a beautiful boy wrapped around him, making him feel like home is in the sliver of space between them.

Nowadays, he wakes up to Even’s slow and quiet snore in his ear. It tickles him and he can’t help but huff out a laugh. Whenever Isak is awake before him, he refuses to wake Even up as well. He knows he can’t make up for all the days sleep escapes Even, but he can lie next to him and protect him as best he can.

Even’s arm is like a stronghold around Isak’s waist, face pushed into his hair. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to the way his boyfriend holds him close while they sleep, like he can fit Isak into his heart. Isak can breathe easier than he has in years. He turns in the circle of Even’s arms to face him directly. He isn’t sure how Even manages to look so good all the time. With his hair in disarray, half his face smushed into the pillow, he’s still the most beautiful person Isak has ever seen.

Isak doesn’t tell him this enough, that even with all the sorrow in his heart and the shadows in his mind, there is so much light in him that he glows. He’s a beacon that saved Isak from himself and brought him to safe shore, to Even.

He trails his fingers across the spots scattered on Even’s cheek, connecting them to form a constellation of stars that haven’t burned out (because Even is here, breathing and _alive_ , so alive).  

Even’s eyes start to flutter, a furrow forms in the space between his brows. Isak presses against it with his thumb. He leans in to press a soft kiss onto his skin, smoothing away any sign of distress. He closes his eyes, holds his lips to Even’s skin and breathes in.

His lungs expand, his ribs pull up and and his heart beats - _even, even, even._  

He feels a nudge against his chin and looks down to see tired eyes peering up at him. Isak knows for sure that in this liminal space of sleep and wakefulness, they have built a quiet home together - each inhale holding the efforts of their journey to this point and each exhale a small declaration of love. He trails the pads of his fingers across Even’s right brow. He smiles when Even raises it up in the way he does when he gives his full attention to Isak.

“Did my face pass the inspection? Has science whiz Valtersen found anything I should be worried about?” Even asks, voice low with hours of disuse.

Isak tries to school his expression into false seriousness. Threading his hand into the curls at the nape of Even’s neck he says, “Ja, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’ve got a serious case of fever. Symptoms include: drooling like a baby, dad-snoring and fucked up hair syndrome.”

Even’s mouth drops open, “you take that back! My hair is a world wonder in these parts of Oslo.” 

“I’m sorry to tell you, but you’ve only got about two weeks left until you become Even Bald Naesheim,” Isak says, bursting into giggles.

Lips curling up, Even stares up at him, his eyes shifting slowly into wonderment. “You’d stay with me anyways,” he says reverently.

Isak’s breath catches in his throat. He can feel the warmth of Even’s belief ingraining themselves into his skin, like small fragments of a sunset glowing in his cells. He pulls his hand away from Even’s neck and brings them to the indents next to his smile, two lines that make all the difference. It’s the space that Isak wishes he could always keep his fingers on, to make sure it’s there (and that Even _believes_ it should be there). 

“Yeah, I’d stay with you anyways,” he says breathlessly, too honest or maybe not honest enough.

Even’s smile grows wider and Isak can’t _think._ He can’t breathe because this boy continues to turn him upside down with how grateful of his existence he is. He wants to curl his body around Even and fit him into the hollows of his cheeks, the grooves of his hips, the synapses of his brain so he can carry his home within himself.  

“I knew I could count on you in distressing times,” Even jokes, eyes bright, sliding his hand under Isak’s t-shirt and pulling him closer by the small of his back, shirtless body pressing against his. “Still, scientist Valtersen, you haven’t told me the cure for this disease. I have a boyfriend waiting for me, and it’s crucial that I keep these charming good looks. Nice boys are hard to come by so I’d like to keep this one.”

Will the universe ever realize it’s missing the small galaxy shifting and expanding in Even’s eyes? 

“In that case, I recommend about 100 kisses every day.”

Even’s face morphs into fake shock, “100?! Every day? That might be too much. You see, my boyfriend has a very busy schedule. I’m not sure he can be torn away from all those silly games he’s always losing at or trashy Michael Bay movies he - mmpf!”

Isak cuts him off by covering up his mouth and rolling on top of him, Even’s hands instantly finding their way to his waist.

“You should be careful what you say about me, Bech Naesheim. No kisses from your boyfriend means no more pretty hair,” Isak grins.

Used to his antics, Even plays along. Fluttering his lashes and asking, “Well then, how about you give me the first dose and we can go from there? Let’s see if these kisses are the cure.” 

Taking the challenge, Isak leans down to brush his nose against Even’s. He smiles when Even closes his eyes and tilts his head up, asking for a kiss. He hovers over his sweet chapped lips and the grip at his waist gets tighter the longer he waits - no patience in this boy whatsoever. Making a split second decision, Isak turns his face to Even’s cheek and blows a raspberry.

Even startles and then starts to shake with laughter, not once loosening his hold on Isak. “I can’t believe you, Issy! I should have known you would sabotage me like this. I knew you cared about your hair more than you let on! You want to be the best blond in this house.” He tries to flip them over, but Isak grabs his wrists and gently pushes above his head into the pillows. Even tries to buck his hips up, but Isak’s got him wrapped up too good to let go now. Even looks up at him, eyes slightly dilated, probably enjoying this more than he’s trying to let on.

“I thought I was supposed to just get 100 kisses today. Is the cure more intensive than I thought?”

“Mmm yeah, but you can trust me. I’m going to take care of you,” Isak promises, voice quiet and strong. He can’t help when the lights in Even’s eyes dim and when his waves of pain drown his brain. But he’s always going to be there to brush the hair out his eyes, read him passages about infinities and cosmos and fit him into the curve of his shoulder, shading him from the voices so _loud, loud, loud._  

“Isak,” he whispers, tone firm and blue eyes questioning.

Isak knows that Even doesn’t want to be taken care of. He knows that this boy has fought wars in his mind and came out victorious, dragging himself through the mud to get to safety. He knows that every film reel Even sees play out in his mind is the brilliance of life that he captures, moment to moment. That his vision comes in pieces that fit together to be so warm and whole. He knows that Even doesn’t _need_ to be taken care of.

And yet, he knows that like two opposing pillars facing each other, Even and love stare longingly across a field of burden. He can’t love himself when his mind tells him he doesn’t deserve good things, that he is a hindrance, that the world has no space. Even forgets that his body is a small home tucked away in a cloudless corner that houses his passion in his feet, humour in his lungs, affection in his grins, intellect within his cranium and all of Isak in his heart.

Even opens his mouth to speak again, but snaps it shut as the fingers wrapped around his wrist tighten. “I need you to listen to what I tell you, Even. I need you to hear me. Can you do that baby?”

It’s a simple request really, but Isak really needs for his boy to understand him. Sometimes words just don’t reach a person’s heart, they just weave through your mind and out your ear - _flow flow flow._

He bends down and presses the first kiss into the delicate skin of Even’s right wrist and then left, where not so long ago were carvings of hurt and fear. He treasures these wrists because as large as his boyfriend is, his wrists seem oddly frail in comparison - two small holdings of bone trying to keep up with a boy whose brain pushes at full speed leaving them vulnerable. So Isak presses more kisses into them, giving his protection to those wrists because they deserve to be held up too.

Isak watches his hands as he drags them along Even’s forearms, so smooth and free, a part of him that is not riddled with moles and questions. He litters kisses down these empty paveways because Even might not see it, but even his arms have given Isak everything; holding him in the nights and days, giving him the insulation he needed when we was left an open wire by everyone he trusted. He sits back up and looks toward Even. His eyes are closed, teeth digging into his lips, chest rising and falling. Isak puts a hand on top of his heart. He brushes his hand against a nipple, tugging slightly and Even chokes out a surprised laugh, but doesn’t say anything.

He opens his eyes and looks up at Isak adoringly. Isak never knew that a boy could look at him like he hung up all the stars in the night sky. He didn’t know how much he needed it.

Isak continues to kiss across Even’s shoulders down to his clavicles and into the hollow between them. He wants his devotion to seep into Even’s skin. He wants to press it so deep into Even’s layers that those moments when he is cold and his mind fogs, he will feel the embers of Isak’s love warming him up - reminding him of what he has waiting for him. Kiss after kiss down the center of his chest down to his navel. And Isak is gone for this boy and it’s been entirely too long since he’s heard him laugh so he blows another raspberry against Even’s skin. 

He nuzzles his face into Even’s stomach as he squirms beneath Isak, giggling away. While gasping, Even exclaims, “Baby, no more, no more! I can’t handle it. Your pointy nose is going to dig a hole into me.”

“You said my nose was cute and squishy!” Isak replies, pouting.

“You’re right, I lied. Your nose is the squishiest, and it’s gorgeous. It’s my most favourite thing about you.”

Even touches the tip of Isak’s nose, pushing it left and right. He laughs at the face of annoyance Isak is probably making. He always did say that grumpy and pouty Isak was the one he enjoyed the most. “My _nose_ is your favourite thing about me?! You have a hot boyfriend, who can now bench press you might I add,” Isak complains. “And you’re going to say that my nose is the best thing about me?”

“I never said it was the _best_ thing about you. I just like it a lot. Just like I like your eyelashes, they’re so pretty,” Even says, brushing his fingers across the soft skin under Isak’s eyes. 

“You’re really trying to make me sound like I’m a schoolgirl. Will you carry my books around then Even?”

“You know I would, baby. I’ll walk you to your locker and classes. We’ll feed each other during lunch period… except we do that already. So Issy, I think you really are a schoolgirl.” 

Isak tries to pout harder, but he knows Even is right. They do all those things already and they’re probably absolutely disgusting in their friend’s eyes. He’s never going to go back to pretending that these things don’t mean the world to him, that he is so lucky to have someone who wants to spend his precious minutes with Isak.  

Putting both hands on Isak’s face, Even insists, “Baby, you’re the prettiest boy I know. I love your nose, eyelashes, these cute cheeks,” he squeezes Isak’s cheeks, “your eyes, your lips, your smile-”

He pushes his face into Even’s neck, grinning into his skin. Isak feels his ears and cheeks burning. It’s been months, days, minutes since Even captured his attention in the school washroom, but he it feels like the excitement hasn’t left him yet. They’ve created a home together in this small apartment, seen each other first in the morning and last at the end of the day, but still every moment feels new. He can tell that Even is biting back a laugh as he wraps his arms around Isak. “Are you blushing? Isak, you already know that’s how I think about you!”

“You’re stealing my thunder though. I’m trying to fucking romance you, and you’re still directing the scene here Even! This is my scene in the film where I wake my boyfriend to kisses and young love,” Isak says around a laugh, disgruntlement melting away to hopeless affection as Even traces his heated ear.

Even is quiet for a moment. “Is it really bad if I say that you talking about film direction is giving me a boner right now?”

Isak splutters, caught off guard. He starts laughing into the crook of Even’s neck and tries to wriggle out of his arms, hands pushing on the bare skin of Even’s chest.

Even tightens his hold on him. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, Isak Valtersen. I have video proof of you saying ‘we’re ride or die, Even, _ride or die_ ’. You've promised me some kind of forever.”

“You’re actually such an asshole. I’m going to burn your phone and make sure everyone knows you can’t trust that curl and those blue eyes. Eskild told me to stay away from boys like you.”

“Eskild loves me. He wants us to adopt kids and name them Eskild, Britney and Grumpsak,” Even snickers. “You need to fess up now Isak. Your surrogate dad gave me the approval, so now you have to admit you love me.” They both lie there, laughter dimming, in each other's arms, hearts thumping away, every beat asking for this happy morning to go on forever.

Isak tilts his head up to press a sweet kiss to the skin under Even’s ear, strangely vulnerable, the the soft skin of his cheek, and down the line of his jaw. He pushes himself up onto an elbow and kisses Even’s temples - under which he hopes is a mind of clear skies over a wide sea - and gives one kiss to each eyelid. He presses three sequential kisses across the bridge of nose to the equally squishy tip of it.

He kisses the skin above Even’s upper lip. Another space of Even he fits well in. Even hums against Isak’s skin, content,  and holding out for the one kiss that they both need the most.

“I love you,” Isak breathes tremulously into the still air between their lips.

“I love you too, baby,” Even replies back across the small space. “You are the best thing in my life.”

And Isak smiles as he finally brushes his lips against Even’s. It always comes back to this. Even’s kisses are an anchor that steadies Isak’s heart and mind and brings him peace. He can feel Even grinning into the long overdue kiss as he rolls on top of him.

The kiss turns slow and languorous, like the rising sun outside their window. He feels Even pull on his bottom lip, run his tongue across it. He lets him in and it feels like all the oxygen in the world has left the room and they can only find it in each other. Isak slides his hands onto Even’s neck. Even runs one hand down Isak’s spine, smoothing his hands across the waistband of his boxers and the other grips Isak’s thigh. Even rubs his thumb back and forth across the soft skin behind Isak’s knee. Isak feels himself going pliant in Even’s arms.

It’s unbelievable how a single kiss can get them going, but here they are. Isak’s lips are tingling and he can feel them swelling. He needs to breathe, so he pulls his lips away, gasping into Even’s chin.

“This is it, Issy. This is my favourite thing; having you to kiss every morning, _waking up_ to you every morning. You make me happy, baby. I’m never going to need anything else, just you is enough,” Even whispers the ardent words into Isak’s temple, unknowingly saying what Isak needed to hear. That he was good for him, that he was more than enough for this wonderful boy.

And if a tear trails down Isak’s cheek, Even doesn’t mention it. He brushes it away with a thumb and hooks his finger under Isak’s chin bringing him forward for another slow kiss.

They can do this for hours - this slow, quiet rhythm, this bliss trapped halfway between waking and slumber. The kiss elicits a hum out of Isak. The tingling of his lips reminding him that they’ve shared more than a thousand kisses now. This boy made of galaxies and film reels, with the bluest eyes and a radiant smile, will continue to shape Isak, fill up his heart and remind him how to _live, live, live._

Even rolls the two of them over. He lifts himself onto his forearms, breaking the kiss. “Halla,” he beams at Isak, rubbing the tip of his nose against Isak’s.

“Halla,” mumbles Isak, tracing the the smile on Even’s lips.

“Tell me to stop,” Even tells him, pushing Isak’s unruly hair behind his ears. “I’m always going to want to want to kiss you. I’d kiss you the entire morning if I could.”

The sounds outside of their embrace disappeared. Everything was quiet.

Isak smiles, wrapping his arms around Even’s neck, bringing him closer. “We have all morning, baby.”

 

 
    
    
    ☆

 

[“In this minute we’ll kiss?”

“In the next 120 minutes, we’ll kiss”

“That’s a far forecast Isak, are you ready to commit?”

“I still have to treat you of that fever. I like this hair too much for you to go bald.”]

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me feedback, I'd love to know your thoughts!
> 
> Also, you can follow me on [tumblr](http://naesheiims.tumblr.com), I'd love to chat about Skam or anything fandom related.


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